


Harry Needs

by Twisted_Mind



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Accidental Voyeurism, Coming Out, Embarrassment, Enthusiastic Consent, Incest, Light Angst, M/M, Male Slash, Mild Language, Multi, Romance, Scheming, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2018-01-25 11:58:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1647833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Twisted_Mind/pseuds/Twisted_Mind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry has always needed a certain amount of looking after.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Harry Needs

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted Feb 17th 2013 at HP Fandom for a friend's birthday. Edited upon re-posting here. 
> 
> Disclaimer: The below never happened, ergo I am not JKR and do not own. More's the pity.

Harry had given a lot of thought as to how he’d eventually come out to his friends and adopted family about his relationship with the twins, but this particular scenario had never crossed his mind.  
  
He was at the Burrow for Sunday dinner, and Ginny had flung an insensitive remark about the war at him. Harry merely smiled tightly, nodded, and tried to let it go. He completely discounted the fact that he was sitting next to Fred at the time, who felt the tension ripple through his body. Fred obviously gave out some incredibly subtle sign—or he used what Harry called his “twin-telepathy”—to signal George, and before Harry had figured out what was happening, his lovers had whisked him away upstairs.  
  
Once he saw that the twins were steering him into their old bedroom, he cottoned on pretty quick.  
  
“No, guys—we can’t! Your _Mum_ is downstairs for Merlin’s sake!” Harry hissed in protest.  
  
Fred and George, of course, ignored him. Ifilling cock to stroke with his tongue.  
  
Harry tried to argue with them, but it was a little difficult with his mouth full of Fred’s tongue. And basic thought was put entirely beyond his grasp when George’s mouth closed around his cock. He started making small, barely-there whining noises, the tension spinning out of his body under the twins’ combined ministrations.  
  
Harry was writhing, having completely given himself over to what his lovers were obviously going to do to him anyway, when he heard a small sound. And then, sadly, he heard a rather large sound.  
  
“Harry, Molly sent me to— _OH MY GOD_!” Hermione shrieked, confronted with what she walked in on. It was blindingly obvious, after all, and Hermione was far from dim.  
  
Fred broke the kiss, as he and Harry simultaneously turned towards Harry’s paralyzed best friend. George tried to shield him from view as he tucked Harry back into his jeans. Meanwhile, Hermione was standing there, her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open, frozen in her shock. Harry absently thought that he ought to mark the calendar— _10 points to me; managed to surprise Hermione._  
  
The worst part, though, was that her scream had drawn all sorts of attention—attention of the sort Harry had been worried about when they came up here to begin with. The sound of footsteps on the stairs could have been the sounding of the apocalypse. There was, unfortunately, no way to hide what they had been doing.  
  
That didn’t mean that they didn’t try, however. Fred released Harry, who shot upright so fast he nearly knocked heads with George. Harry tried to smooth his hair, his clothing having already been seen to by George, but he knew it was useless—he could feel his kiss-bruised lips, and the scent of sex hung faintly in the air. Casting quick looks at his lovers, he saw that they were in no better states: their lips were just as swollen as Harry’s, and Fred was sporting a rather unmistakable bulge despite their interruption.  
  
When Molly carefully brushed past ‘Mione to investigate the cause of her shriek, Harry cradled his head in his hands—he didn’t think he could look his surrogate mother in the eye for shame. As it was, the skin of his face burned under his fingers. Meanwhile, George’s hand stoked soothingly down Harry’s back—though how he could stand to touch his younger lover while facing his mum, Harry hadn’t a clue.  
  
“Boys! What do you have to say for yourselves?” Mrs. Weasley’s voice was just as sharp as Harry had anticipated.  
   
“Sorry mum—"  Fred started.  
  
“—Harry just really, really—”  
   
 _“—_ That’s no excuse! You are both more than aware of the existence of Privacy Charms!” Mrs. Weasley interrupted. Harry’s head whipped up. Wasn’t she more upset about the fact that Harry was, well … __shagging_ _ her sons _?_ Two of them? At the __same time_?   
_    
He realized that his mouth was hanging open when Mrs. Weasley turned to him, her expression softening. “Harry, dear, you didn’t honestly think I was clueless, did you? I have raised six boys, you know. I certainly don’t expect them to live like saints, and,” she snorted inelegantly, “especially not these two.”  
  
Harry’s mouth worked for a moment as he stared at the woman he considered a mother, as he darted brief glances towards the rest of his surrogate family. “You . . . you’re really not mad? Or, y’know . . . disappointed?” he finally managed to choke out.  
  
The Weasley matriarch clucked at him. “No, Harry, dear. Well, perhaps a little that I had to find out this way, rather than hearing it from my sons, but otherwise, no.”  
  
Harry smiled widely in relief, his colour beginning to return to normal. “I’m so glad that you’re not disappointed or weirded out by this, Mrs. . .  Molly.” Harry amended, knowing that she’d asked him to call her such many times. She smiled fondly at him.  
  
The warm moment was shattered when Ron piped up with, “You may not be weirded out, Mum, but I am.”  
  
Harry’s heart felt heavy, and he dared not look at his lovers—though he felt them shift closer to where he was sitting on the bed—as he started to answer his best friend. “Look, Ron, I wish I could say I was sorry, but—”  
  
“No, not you, mate,” Ron said dismissively. Green eyes jerked upwards to look at his friend’s face. “I mean them,” he clarified, pointing to the twins.  
  
The twins gave him identical, slightly evil grins, before they each swooped in to kiss Harry’s cheeks. Harry immediately started blushing and spluttering.  
  
“Knock it off you two, I’m being serious!” Ron snapped. Harry wondered if he was about to lose his best mate. “Now, I can kind of get why you like the speccy, moody git,” he flashed Harry a grin, who rolled his eyes, “but what I don’t get is why the both of you? I mean, why does he, and you, both . . .” he trailed off, unable to articulate what he was driving at.  
  
Luckily, Fred and George were fluent in Ron-speak, primitive though it was.  
  
“You mean, why the three of us? Why all three of us, together, and why are we okay with that?” Fred asked, his blue eyes twinkling. Ron nodded, looking relieved.  
  
“Easy,” George replied. “Harry—”  
  
“—as I’m sure you’ve noticed a time or two—”  
  
“—needs some looking after.” George shrugged. “He keeps us on our toes, and we make sure that he’s taken care of.” Ron nodded his understanding.  
  
Harry, on the other hand, had been wondering that same thing himself since he’d been with the twins. Seeing them casually admit that they liked to take care of him gave him a warm feeling—one that was best taken care of in private.  
  
To that end, Harry suddenly decided that he wanted some looking after—preferably of the sort that had been interrupted so rudely—but knew he was never going to get it around this crowd. To that end, he let out a small grunt—barely more than a breath—and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them, George was looking at him concernedly.  
  
“Harry, what’s wrong?”  
  
Squinting, Harry quickly replied, “Nothing! It’s nothing.”  
  
The twins, however, weren’t having any of it. In a few whirlwind moments, Fred and George were saying goodbye to everyone, overriding Harry’s protests that they didn’t need to go home, _really_. They didn’t listen to him anymore now than they had last time, and Harry soon found himself tumbling out the Floo into the living room of the flat he shared with the twins, his lovers following close behind.  
  
“Now, Harry, what’s wrong?” George asked before the roar of the emerald flames had completely died down.  
  
“And none of this ‘it’s nothing, really’ nonsense that you like to spew,” Fred added sternly.  
  
Harry plastered a faux-innocent expression on his face, shaking his head mutely.  
  
“Harry! Do you really think that we can’t tell when something is wrong with you? Something was paining you, and I want you to stop being a wanker and tell me what it was,” George snapped, his blue eyes narrowing.  
  
Harry walked over his lover, and wrapped his arms around George’s broad shoulders. “Should’ve known I couldn’t fool you,” he murmured, kissing the underside of George’s jaw as he rubbed his erection against the redhead’s thigh.  
  
George’s eyes widened in surprise, before a devious look spread across his face. He looked at his twin, who appeared a little confused, and explained. “It seems we’ve been played, Freddie.”  
  
A calculating expression spread across Fred’s features. “And what are we going to do about that, dear brother?” he asked, draping himself along Harry’s back.  
  
Harry, for his part, continued with his set task—kissing George’s freckled, stubbled throat and jaw, while rubbing himself shamelessly against his lover. He was unconcerned with their reactions, sure as he was that he was going to get what he wanted. He remained unconcerned until he heard George’s growled response.  
  
“I think that we’re going to have to punish him.”  
  
Shivers started dancing up and down Harry’s spine. Suddenly, Fred’s hands were prising his own off of George, holding his wrists in a vice-like grip, and George had his hands on Harry’s ankles as they carried him through to their bedroom. He was unceremoniously tossed on the bed before a couple of wand flicks divested him of his clothing and left him comically paralyzed—stiff cock and all.  
  
George moved behind his brother, resting his chin on Fred’s shoulder, his hands roaming over the broad chest as he whispered into Fred’s ear. “You know what I think?”  
  
“What?” the word was moaned. George’s hands were delightfully wicked in their travels.  
  
“We know that his favourite spot is the middle, don’t we?” George answered the question with a question, nipping on Fred’s earlobe.  
  
“Mm, yeah, the greedy boy,” Fred replied, arching shamelessly into his brother’s touch.  
  
“Well, I say that this time, we put sweet little Harrykins on the bottom.” Harry would have moaned if he weren’t Petrified. “Let him feel what it’s like to have both of us moving over him . . . you up for being in the middle, Freddie?” George whispered hotly as his hands slid underneath the simple tee shirt his brother was wearing.  
  
Fred’s only answer was a deep groan. His assent couldn’t have been clearer.  
  
Harry watched as the twins began to undress each other, knowing that without the hex on him, his heart would be hammering as all his blood forcefully pooled south. It was erotic as hell to watch them—to see Fred’s hands slide down his brother’s sides, to hear George’s moans when Fred sucked up dark bruises against that freckled skin. Harry wished he could pant as the acres of pale, freckly skin came into view, and he drank in the sight of his lovers.  
  
Most people wouldn’t be able to tell them apart, but after months of sharing their bed, Harry had learned a few things. Like how Fred’s hands were rougher, because he spent more time fiddling with their experiments, or how the corner of George’s mouth pulled up, making his smile just a tad crooked. Of course, at moments like this, there were other, more wicked differences that drew his attention.  
  
Like how George was the more forceful, dominant partner in bed. That Fred’s prick had a slight cant to the left that his brother’s didn’t. That George was the more tactile, Fred the more oral. As for Harry . . . well, it was as they’d said: Harry was just greedy, drinking and drowning in the affection and lust they poured liberally over him.  
  
His greed—and mounting desire—got the better of him, and his magic swelled until it snapped the hold the minor hex had on his body. Once freed, a moan was ripped from his throat as his already-stiff cock flushed darkly, filling even further. The twins broke from a heated kiss at the sound. Fred smiled coyly and George’s eyes narrowed when they realized what must have happened.  
  
Fred slithered up Harry’s body until he lay covering the younger man, a warm weight that rendered Harry nearly as immobile as the _Petrificus Totalis_ had. Fred chuckled as Harry tried to arch, sliding bare flesh against bare flesh.  
  
“Oh, Harry, we’ll get there . . . eventually. You’re just gonna have to be patient,” Fred whispered against Harry’s ear. Harry whimpered.  
  
He felt like his skin was on fire as Fred lay on him, groaning into his neck. George was kneeling behind his twin, prepping him slowly and thoroughly for his role as the man in the middle. Soon, Harry didn’t think he could take any more of Fred’s panting and writhing atop him. Mere seconds later, both Fred and George pulled away, and Harry whined at the loss. This time, the chuckle was George’s.  
  
Fred was merely sliding down Harry’s body, spreading the brunet’s thighs so he could whisper cleaning, stretching, and lubricating charms against his entrance. Harry squirmed, shifting closer as he felt the scratch of Fred’s stubble and the tingle of magic rippling through him. Harry was ready to explode by the time Fred slid a few pillows under his hips, putting his arse on display.  
  
Finally, Fred lined up, the head of his cock pressing against Harry, his hands pinning Harry’s to the bed, and George moving into position behind him. Harry was about to ask him what in name of bloody fucking Merlin was the hold up when George suddenly seated himself in one forceful thrust, propelling Fred into Harry. Harry choked on a moan—while charms were certainly enough to prevent any serious damage, they were not in any way adequate to prepare for the reality of Fred Weasley invading his arse, and he loved it.  
  
Having been kept on the edge of arousal for so long, Harry knew that he wouldn’t last, not with the fucking George was doling out to Fred—and Harry by extension. Arching his hips, he felt heat coiling in his belly, hips, spine, as Fred hit his prostate. Rocking into each thrust, it was a mere matter of minutes before Harry’s muscles were spasming as his cock pumped out pearly lashes of come.  
  
Harry’s spasms set off a chain reaction, his orgasm pulling Fred’s own to the surface. After, he slumped on top of Harry, George erratically pounding out his final thrusts before he too tipped over the edge into bliss. Harry happily lay at the bottom of the slick pile for a few minutes, before grunting. The twins obligingly shifted so that—while still in a sprawling heap of limbs—Harry was no longer crushed under their combined weight.  
  
As he felt the tingle of Cleaning Charms flutter over them, Harry lay warm and sated between the bodies of his lovers. It was exactly where he belonged.  
  
  



End file.
